That was what I wrote after meeting the 🦄 in Tucson. The rush of infatuation was overwhelming. It was enough to get me to fly to NYC. On a whim. On a hope and wing and a prayer. The trip that would change the trajectory of my life. I had no idea what was in store. It could have ended terribly. As it was, my backpack was stolen. But it wasn’t enough to stop me. I fell in love on that trip, with the city of New York. And how many others have fallen in love with my stories that emanated from that trip? Where did the courage come from to get me on that plane?
Ok, that’s been over with for about a year. But this is now my annual day of reflection on what I want when it comes to dudes.
I don’t crave drama or a monogamous relationship or using “we” instead of “I”. I’m uncompromising when it comes to my best interests. I don’t feel incomplete without a man. And I don’t buy the romantic love of star-crossed lovers destined to meet, fulfill one another, and die together in bed like the old couple from Titanic.
I’m more complex than most people, regardless of gender. My brain runs hot and I have incredibly high standards. I burn through men and then get bored with them if they’re not saavy enough to keep up, confident enough to feel safe or steady enough to not be addicted to some substance.
What I do love are flirtations, short but productive and consuming affairs, pure lust that transforms into friendship, slow burn attraction that never gets fulfilled but always leaves rooms for “what if’s,” grateful boys in their 20’s who’ve never seen confidence close up, and a little chase—chaser and chasee.
My loyalty is rarely to the man and more to my own memories and my retelling to you. I don’t tell you everything, of course, the more salacious parts I only tell close friends. And maybe Oprah one day. But that’s redudant.
Who will the next weird and twisted adventure be with? I could not tell you. He’s yet to appear. But if you know anything about me by this point, you know that it’ll be interesting to watch.
I’m in Tucson right now, wondering how I’m going to get back home. I have a flight. May 24. Yesterday it seemed almost impossible. But today, armed with the memory of the courage it took to fly there in June 2017, August 2017, June 2018, August 2018, October 2018 and then May 2019, I know that whatever awaits me, it’s going to be tough and maybe a bit dangerous, but well-worth it and a hell of a lot of fun.